


Once More, With Feeling

by fictionalaspect



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Facials, Fisting, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Sensation Play, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How many times <i>can</i> you come in one day? Brendon and Spencer resolve to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More, With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://fictionalaspect.livejournal.com/204391.html) for Bandom Big Bang 2011. Further notes and and an awesome fanmix for this story can be found by following the link.

The house is suspiciously quiet when Spencer walks in the door.

"Brendon?" Spencer calls out, juggling two bags of groceries and trying not to step on the dogs. He hears a vague reply from somewhere upstairs, so he sets the groceries down on the kitchen island and goes upstairs to investigate. It figures that Brendon would still be asleep at two-o-clock in the afternoon.

"Hey," Spencer says, pushing their bedroom door open. "Get out of bed, you lazy asshole. It's almost two pm."

"Uh-huh," Brendon says, flashing a grin at Spencer. He's sitting cross-legged on the bed with his laptop, entirely naked except for his glasses. He has an amazing case of bed-head. "Good morning to you, too."

"Morning," Spencer says, rolling his eyes. He drops a kiss on Brendon's mouth when Brendon tilts his head up in invitation, and then sits down on the edge of the bed. "What's so fascinating it couldn't wait until after breakfast?"

"Orgasms," Brendon says, clicking over to another tab. Spencer peers over Brendon's shoulder and then frowns, because with a response like that he was expecting tab after tab of porn, and Brendon's mostly just got Wikipedia and a few other blog posts open.

"Okay?" Spencer says, letting his confusion show in his voice. "What, like, the study of the human orgasm? How is that more important than breakfast?"

"Have you ever done that thing where you jerk off as much as you can in one day, just to see how many you can have?" Brendon says, instead of answering Spencer's question.

"Uh," Spencer says. "Yeah?"

"Right," Brendon says, slanting his eyes over at Spencer. "I haven't."

Spencer blinks at him. "Not even when you were like, fifteen?" Spencer says, because that was definitely one of his favorite recreational activities when he was in high school, which makes him sound like a sex addict, but whatever. Spencer has nothing but pleasant memories of that time in his life. Of the jerking-off parts, that is.

"Nope," Brendon says, grinning widely. "So. That's pretty much my plan for today."

Spencer raises an eyebrow at him.

"Brendon, that is the dumbest idea I've ever heard," Spencer says.

Brendon rolls his eyes right back. "Look, I never said you were invited," he says. "If you're not interested, I can totally have this orgasm party all by myself."

"Orgasm party?" Spencer says.

"I was thinking about buying party hats," Brendon says, entirely serious.

"Right," Spencer says.

"Red and yellow ones," Brendon says. "Maybe with a bear on them. Dancing bears?"

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met," Spencer says, finally losing his composure and starting to snicker at the mental image of Brendon jerking off by himself all day in a sad little party hat with bears on it.

"Shut up, it would be awesome," Brendon says, grinning helplessly in return.

"You're ridiculous," Spencer says, pressing a kiss to Brendon's forehead. "And also, when I said it was dumb, that wasn't what I meant. I meant it's really dumb for you to sit around and jerk off all day when you live with your boyfriend and he's more than willing to help you get off."

" _Oh_ ," Brendon says, waggling his eyebrows. "And _now_ he changes his tune."

"Like I'm going to say no to having sex with you all day," Spencer says, standing up and stretching. "But let's do it tomorrow. The dogs could use some actual exercise, and I just bought stuff for the grill."

"Alright," Brendon says. He sets his laptop on the bedside table, kicking the covers away from his feet. "Cool. I need to get my game face on, anyway. Get into the _zone_."

"You do that," Spencer says. He heads downstairs to put the milk away.

—

"So do I get to plan this?" Brendon says, taking a large sip of his beer. Spencer's standing over the grill, making sure their dinner doesn't burn. The smoke stings his eyes, and he blinks hurriedly.

"Um," Spencer says, rubbing at his face. "Did you want to?"

"I don't know," Brendon says, thoughtfully. He leans down and takes the tiny little floppy dog Frisbee they'd bought Bogart out of his waiting mouth. Bogart yips excitedly, bouncing in place, but Brendon just stands there, contemplating. "I mean. If I get to choose, then I get to look forward to everything. But it would also be kind of awesome if I let you choose, you know? It would be all exciting and shit."

"Right," Spencer says. He flips a burger. Bogart wiggles his tiny little dog butt, and yips some more.

"Seriously, I don't know," Brendon says. He takes another sip of his beer. "Are you going to do like, crazy shit if I let you choose? Is tomorrow going to be the day where I discover you're into clowns? Are you going to give me weird foot-orgasms or something?"

"Throw the Frisbee," Spencer says, because Bogart is seriously so excited he's about to pee on Brendon's foot if he doesn't get with the program. Brendon shrugs, tossing it down the yard. Bogart takes off like a shot, kicking up tiny clumps of grass and dirt in his wake. "And no," Spencer says, flipping the first of the burgers off the grill. "I don't know how to give anyone a foot-orgasm, so that's probably not going to happen."

"So it _is_ clowns," Brendon says sagely, wandering over to steal a chunk of the first burger. He hisses when he touches it, because it's super-hot, and then he puts it in his mouth anyway because Spencer's boyfriend is an idiot sometimes. "Ow," Brendon says, around the mouth of his beer. "Damn. That was hot."

"Fire is usually pretty hot," Spencer agrees.

"Asshole," Brendon returns, entirely without rancor. "If you weren't taking so long, I would be eating already, and I wouldn't have to burn my mouth in pursuit of meaty goodness."

"I'll give you some meaty goodness," Spencer says, because that's too good of a set-up to let it pass by. Brendon grins at him, stealing another chunk of the burger but blowing on it this time to cool it between his fingers. "For serious, though," Spencer says. "No clowns. Nothing crazy. Nothing we've never done before, or at least talked about."

"That leaves a lot of territory," Brendon says, winking at him. Spencer grins back because yeah, it does. "I think I'll let you get creative, then." He leans down to where Bogart's sitting on his foot, nudging Brendon's shinbone with the Frisbee. "Maybe we should send you over to Shane and Regan's tonight," Brendon says, giving him a few good scratches behind the ears. "We don't want to scar your little doggy brain tomorrow."

"I think the damage has already been done," Spencer says, flipping the next couple burgers off the grill. "He has to stare at _your_ naked ass all the time."

—

"Hey Spence," Brendon whispers, just as Spencer's falling asleep that night. "Spence. Hey. Spencer."

Spencer hums in return. He pushes back slightly, so Brendon can wrap his arm tighter around Spencer's waist. Spencer secretly loves being the little spoon.

"Thanks," Brendon whispers, and presses a sloppy kiss to Spencer's bare shoulder.

"Mmm," Spencer says, sleepy and warm.

—

The next thing Spencer is aware of is the sunlight peeking through the curtains, and the familiar feeling of Brendon's forearm pressed up against his own. There's a slight sensation of movement. Spencer cracks one eye open to investigate.

"Hey," Brendon mumbles, rolling his shoulders out and grinning sleepily at Spencer. He's lying on his back, one hand already stroking his stomach, reaching down to run his fingers over the head of his dick.

"You're not supposed to start without me," Spencer mutters, and through a Herculean force of will, manages to roll himself over so he's lying on his side, facing Brendon. He's still mostly asleep, but he leans in and nuzzles at the crook of Brendon's neck until Brendon gets the message and shifts over enough so that Spencer can kiss him.

"This is just a prelude," Brendon mumbles, into Spencer's mouth. Spencer looks down to see Brendon wrap two fingers around himself, stroking slowly. "You get to run the show for the rest of the day, promise."

"Mmm," Spencer says, a pleased rumble. He likes this plan. He likes that he gets to wake up watching Brendon get off, and that he still gets to be in charge later. If there's anything that Spencer knows about Brendon, it's that he loves jerking off in the morning, when he's half-asleep and relaxed and he can kiss Spencer messily while he does it. Spencer doesn't mind, as long as Brendon doesn't expect him to come up with any complicated moves before he's fully awake.

Spencer leans in and licks just behind Brendon's ear. Brendon makes a tiny noise, tilting his head back and baring his neck. Spencer lets himself explore, nuzzling at the hollow of Brendon's throat, mouthing at the line of Brendon's neck as he works his way back up to Brendon's ear lobes.

"Spence," Brendon says, biting his lower lip as he works his hand. Spencer makes an inquisitive noise, moving lower so he can scrape his teeth along the sharp jut of Brendon's collarbone. He runs his fingers lightly over the tattoo on Brendon's forearm, feeling the muscles tense under the skin. Brendon shudders.

"Yeah?" Spencer says, lifting his head.

"You should tell me what you're going to do to me today," Brendon says. His voice is low and breathless. There are tiny pauses tucked in between each word, timed to the strokes of his fist. "Come on, I want to know."

"Mmm," Spencer says. "Nope." He tugs at Brendon's hand, pulling it away from Brendon's dick, and Brendon whines but lets Spencer do what he wants. Spencer licks a slow, careful path up the palm of Brendon's hand, making sure to suck on all of his fingers, one by one. "I think you should go back to doing what you were doing," Spencer says, guiding Brendon's hand back to his dick and closing his fist around Brendon's. Brendon sucks in a breath at the first touch of his wet palm, his mouth falling open on a gasp. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Cocktease," Brendon mutters, but he's already pushing his hips up to meet both of their fists, curling his body up around his cock as he follows Spencer's lead.

"That's the plan," Spencer says, pulling his hand away so he can rub two fingers over the head of Brendon's dick. His cock is shiny and flushed, pre-come already leaking down the closed circle of Brendon's fist. Spencer pulls his hand back and spits on his fingers, and then brushes them lightly over the head of Brendon's dick. Brendon's mouth falls open, his hand working faster, and then Spencer closes his fist firmly around the wet head of Brendon's cock and Brendon bucks up into Spencer's hand and comes with a groan.

"That's the best trick," Brendon mumbles, still trying to catch his breath. "Fuck, that always feels _so good_ when you do that."

"Yeah," Spencer says, pulling his wet hand away and reaching down to fist himself. Brendon's come is thick and warm on his palm, and Spencer can already tell this isn't going to take long. He'd been planning on seeing how long he could hold off today, but he figures he's more likely to succeed if he takes the edge off.

Brendon rolls over gracelessly, plastering himself to Spencer's side and biting at the curve of Spencer's jawline. He runs his hands all over Spencer's stomach, down his thighs, and when Brendon bites down hard on Spencer's shoulder and cups Spencer's balls lightly in one hand, Spencer comes quickly and forcefully.

"Phew," Spencer says, blinking wide and surprised as the orgasm ebbs away. "Wow."

"Yeah," Brendon mumbles, licking carefully at the mark he's left and then pulling back to peer at it. "Sorry about your shoulder."

"Don't care," Spencer says, shrugging and rolling on top of Brendon so he can kiss him. Brendon's mouth is warm and soft and tastes kind of gross. Spencer's used to it, because neither of them can ever be bothered to actually get up and brush their teeth before having sex in the morning. Spencer likes that Brendon has the same priorities that he has. It makes life so much easier.

"So what now?" Brendon says, eventually. His hair is a mess against Spencer's pillow, and Spencer can't help reaching out and smoothing it down. "We lie here all day and do that over and over again?" He looks sleepy and sated, and for a second, Spencer's almost tempted to say yes.

"Nope," Spencer says, shaking his head and kicking the covers back, grinning at Brendon's surprised yelp. "We get up and I make you breakfast, and then we shower, and _then_ we have more sex."

"What the hell is the point of showering?" Brendon says, frowning.

"Well," Spencer says, pulling an old pair of sweatpants on and shoving his feet into his flip-flops. "I'm planning to do a lot of really filthy shit to you, and it's more fun for me if you're all clean when we start."

"You don't appreciate my manly scent?" Brendon says, yawning as he stands up and starts fumbling around for something to wear.

"Well," Spencer says. "No."

"I smell awesome all the time," Brendon says, pulling on a pair of ratty old basketball shorts. "I smell like roses and kittens, fuck you."

"Most of the time you smell like ass," Spencer says. "But I'd fuck you even if you smelled gross, that's not the point. The point is that you need to be clean for the 'before' pictures."

"The what?" Brendon says, turning around. "What pictures?"

"It's just something I was thinking about," Spencer says. "You know. We'll get you all roughed up and covered in come, and then we'll take some pictures at the end so you can see how pretty you look. We've never done that."

"Uh-huh," Brendon says weakly. Spencer turns in the doorway to see Brendon staring at him with large, dazed eyes. He's holding one flip-flop.

"Only if you want," Spencer says, grinning at the sight of Brendon absolutely speechless for once. "Anyway. Waffle time?"

—

"Brendon," Spencer says, fiddling with the settings on his camera. "Come on. Take your pants off."

"Waffles," Brendon says, ripping off another piece and dipping it in syrup, and then shoving it into his already-full mouth. Like Spencer's supposed to understand that what Brendon really means is, _I am holding waffles and they're delicious and right now they're more important than you are and also I can't prioritize when there's food in front of me._ It's a good thing Spencer's so used to translating the stupid shit that comes out of his boyfriend's mouth.

"That's not an excuse," Spencer says, squinting through the viewfinder at where Brendon is leaning up against the counter. "They won't run away. Just put them down and get naked for a second."

"They might," Brendon says. He sucks syrup off his finger.

"Put the waffles down and I'll blow you," Spencer says.

"Mmrrr?" Brendon says, raising an eyebrow at Spencer. His mouth is full. It takes him a few tries to chew and swallow everything.

"You heard me," Spencer says. "Pants first, though."

"You're seriously going to take a picture of me standing naked in our kitchen eating waffles," Brendon says, pushing his basketball shorts down and stepping out of his flip-flops.

"No," Spencer says. He squints through the viewfinder again. Behind Brendon, the sun is high and bright; the morning light is flooding in through the cracks in the curtains. It's a really nice shot. Brendon looks sleepy, hazy, tinged at the edges with phosphorescence. "I'm taking artsy, attractively lit shots of you naked in our kitchen. Without the waffles."

"Okay," Brendon says. He poses for a few more—looking away and letting his eyes unfocus, then snapping back to Spencer when he takes a shot, because someone once told Brendon that it makes you look better in pictures and now he does it automatically. Brendon's so used to being in front of cameras that it always takes Spencer a while to get that one shot where he manages to capture the Brendon he actually sees every day, and not Brendon Urie, singer, frontman, professional ham.

"So when do I get that blowjob?" Brendon says, after Spencer's been _clickclickclicking_ away.

"Now," Spencer says, checking his last few shots in the viewfinder. He sets the camera down on the kitchen island, seating himself in one of the low chairs they'd bought to go with their IKEA table. Spencer can't help it that he likes interior design. It's a character flaw. The chairs aren't super comfortable, but they look cool and they're exactly the right height for blowing Brendon, so Spencer figures it all evens out in the end.

"Come over here," Spencer says, tilting his head towards Brendon.

Brendon smiles, reaching out for his plate.

"Fuck you, don't bring the waffles," Spencer says, rolling his eyes.

"Aww, damn," Brendon says, pulling his hand back and crossing the kitchen. "But that's like. That's a fucking life goal, you know? Getting a blowjob while eating breakfast. The best of all possible worlds."

"You know what's not the best of all possible worlds?" Spencer says, rubbing his thumb slowly along the side of Brendon's dick. He was half-hard in the photographs, and he's all the way there now. "Getting a plate of waffles dropped on my head while I'm blowing you."

Brendon breathes out, shifting his hips into the touch. "Point," Brendon concedes. He pushes his hips forward farther, sliding the head of his dick across Spencer's lips. Spencer keeps his mouth closed, smirking.

"C'mon," Brendon says. "Spence. You promised."

"Say please," Spencer says, and Brendon rolls his eyes.

"Please," Brendon says dryly. "Come on, let me stick my dick on your mouth."

"That's really not making me want to blow you," Spencer says. He purses his lips, blowing lightly on the head of Brendon's dick. "Try asking nicely."

"Fuck," Brendon says, his hips twitching. "I was being nice. _So_ nice. Come on, Spence."

"Not nice enough," Spencer says. He opens his mouth, just a little, and then when Brendon pushes forward he pulls his head back, closing his lips again.

"Okay, _please_ ," Brendon says and underneath the impatience there's a thread of growing desperation. Spencer smiles because yes, _that's_ what he was waiting for. He doesn't like to think of himself as an evil person, but they both know Brendon gets off on having to ask for it. It's not Spencer's fault if he takes advantage every once in a while.

Spencer opens his mouth, letting Brendon push his cock between Spencer's lips, slow and careful. Spencer relaxes his jaw, letting Brendon in as far as he can. Brendon's hands are cradling Spencer's jawline, stroking complicated patterns over the secret curves behind Spencer's ears.

He pulls back, breathing heavy. His cock slips out of Spencer's mouth with a wet sound.

"Yeah?" Brendon says, his eyes dark. He sounds entirely breathless. "You'll let me—I can fuck your mouth?"

"Sure," Spencer says, leaning in so he can trail his mouth over the curve of Brendon's hipbone. "Don't choke me, though. I need to be alive so I can fuck you later."

"Right," Brendon says, in a strangled voice. He brushes his fingers over Spencer's mouth, slick and wet, shining with spit. "Jesus," Brendon says. "Fuck, Spence. I love your mouth."

"It loves you too," Spencer says, He trails his mouth lower, over the base of Brendon's cock, licking between the fingers of Brendon's other hand, where he's gripping himself tightly. "You should come on my face when you're done."

"Oh _fuck,_ " Brendon says, accidentally pulling Spencer's hair in his sudden eagerness to get Spencer's mouth on his cock.

Spencer sinks his mouth down slowly, so slowly, ignoring the sharp spike of pain in the back of his skull from where Brendon is tugging on his hair. It's worth it. It's so, so worth it, especially when Brendon chokes out a strangled moan when Spencer refuses to go down all the way.

"C'mon," Brendon pleads, tugging again. "Spence, c'mon, _please_ , want to fuck your mouth—"

Spencer flicks his eyes up. Brendon is flushed red, panting above him. Spencer watches Brendon swallow, and then he closes his eyes and sinks down, reveling in the feeling of Brendon filling him up, surrounding him. Brendon's hips jerk up, but Spencer just breathes through his nose, letting his throat relax. He can totally deep-throat Brendon, he just doesn't do it very often because it requires actual concentration. Brendon's hands are careful in Spencer's hair, no longer pulling helplessly.

"Fuck," Brendon whispers. His chest is heaving. He rolls his hips and Spencer swallows around him. Brendon moans, ragged at the edges.

"Fuck, Spencer," Brendon whispers, again. He's petting at Spencer's hair, smoothing his hands across the back of Spencer's neck, like he can't get enough. Spencer focuses on breathing and swallowing for as long as he can, and then he opens his eyes and pulls back when he can feel himself getting lightheaded. Brendon's cock is shining when he pulls away, wet with his spit. There's a thin strand stretching between Spencer's mouth and Brendon's cock, and Brendon reaches down with shaking hands and wipes it over Spencer's lips.

"Just stay like that," Brendon says roughly. "Can you. Just. Stay like that?"

Spencer licks his lips.

Brendon makes a wordless noise, sliding his fist over his cock, quick and rough. Spencer can't seem to stop staring at the tip of Brendon's cock, the way it peeks out through his fist on every upstroke. He can't remember the last time blowing Brendon got him so hard. Spencer feels like he's about to jump out of his skin, just _anticipating_ it, and from the sounds Brendon's making above him, he thinks Brendon's in pretty much the same boat.

"C'mon," Spencer whispers, letting his eyes fall closed. His stomach jumps, because now he won't _know_ when Brendon comes until it's all over his face, and why is that suddenly so fucking hot? "I want it, B."

"Shit," Brendon says, his hips jerking up. "I'm—all over you, Spence. Gonna come all over you, oh fuck—"

"Yeah," Spencer says, letting his mouth fall open, and then all of a sudden it's a wet, hot rush, Brendon's come hitting his cheeks, his nose. Spencer keeps his eyes closed, trying to breathe. It takes all of his self-composure to keep his hands away from his dick, hard and aching in his sweatpants. Spencer has _plans_ , important plans, plans that involve Brendon. He keeps breathing, slow and steady, until he's sure he can handle opening his eyes.

Brendon's kneeling down in front of him, looking awed, still shaky. "Hey," Brendon says, brushing his fingers over Spencer's face. "Hey, Spence."

"Hey," Spencer says, swallowing hard when Brendon leans in, kissing him so, so gently. His fingers slide against the come on Spencer's cheeks, and Spencer groans, pressing closer.

"Gotta get you cleaned up," Brendon says roughly, and then he's licking carefully at Spencer's cheeks and Spencer groans again, louder this time.

"No," Spencer says breathlessly, pushing Brendon away. "No. You. My dick," Spencer says, helplessly. "If you. Fuck."

Brendon blinks at him for a moment, and then he grins. "Awesome command of the English language there, dude," Brendon says, leaning in for one last lick to Spencer's cheek, and then darting away to grab a washcloth and wet it in the sink.

"Shut up," Spencer mumbles. He waits until Brendon comes back and hands him the washcloth, rubbing it over his face until it feels reasonably clean. "Okay," Spencer says, feeling himself settle. He's still achingly hard, but he's not quite as on edge as he was a moment ago.

"It's so hot how much you like that," Brendon says, almost to himself. Spencer feels another flush creeping up the back of his neck. He wills it away. Having Brendon come on his face is one of those things that Spencer always forgets about until it's actually happening, and then he remembers that he doesn't like it much in porn but it's insanely fucking hot when Brendon does it. Spencer really needs to prepare himself better in the future, but it catches him unaware every time.

"So what's next?" Brendon says, taking the washcloth back from Spencer. He drops the washcloth in the sink, not bothering to clean himself up, and Spencer feels another flush of arousal. He'd mostly been trying to get a rise out of Brendon this morning, but hell, if Brendon's up for it, Spencer has absolutely no problem with Brendon staying filthy all day.

"I'm taking a shower," Spencer says, making his decision. If they go back to bed now, he's going to come everywhere if Brendon so much as touches him. Spencer knows he's capable of waiting, that if he holds off now he'll start to feel that slow, addictive burn. Brendon's too impatient, too demanding to enjoy denying himself that way, but Spencer loves it.

"Okay," Brendon says, kissing him on the forehead with dark, dark eyes. "You do that. I'll do the dishes, I guess."

"Awesome," Spencer says, and goes to take a cold shower.

—

"So," Brendon says, conversationally, arranging himself on the bed and pushing his shorts off. "This better be awesome, because I was totally looking forward to watching you come and then you shortchanged me."

"Your life is pretty hard," Spencer agrees, rolling his shoulders out. The shower has worked its magic; he feels calm and composed, which is pretty much exactly where he wants to be when he's planning on blowing Brendon's mind.

"It is," Brendon agrees, tucking his hands behind his head. "How do you want me, oh orgasm master?"

"On your stomach," Spencer says. "Also, shut up." Brendon smirks at him, but he complies, rolling over so he's face-down on the bed, head to one side in the cradle of his arms. Spencer steps back, considering, and then he pulls a pillow down from the top of the bed, covering it with a dirty towel from god-knows-when that's lying on the floor of their bedroom.

"Lift up," Spencer says, tapping at the back of Brendon's thigh. "Get it under your hips." Brendon _hmmms_ thoughtfully, arranging the pillow underneath himself and then wiggling around until he's comfortable. Spencer reaches into the top drawer of his bureau, pulling out a jar of lube. There's some in the bedside table, too, but this is going to be more fun if Brendon's not expecting it.

"Do you mind closing your eyes?" Spencer says, making it clear that it's a question. He and Brendon have fooled around with some BDSM stuff in the past, but he's not trying to give Brendon orders or anything. He just wants Brendon to get off really, really hard, and he knows what makes Brendon tick, and one of those things is surprises. Brendon cranes his neck to wink at him, and then obediently closes his eyes.

Spencer grins to himself, popping open the cap of the bottle as quietly as he can. He settles himself on the bed, in between Brendon's spread legs. He brushes his left hand over the curve of Brendon's ass, keeping the slick fingers of his right hand away from Brendon's skin. Spencer can't remember the last time he's had Brendon so still and pliant underneath him. Brendon is _fun_ in bed, he's fiery and demanding and pushy and he likes a lot of really enjoyably kinky shit, but he's not one to sit around and wait. Having Brendon all spread out before him—mellow, humming softly, a faint and interested smile on his lips as he waits—is such a rare treat that Spencer has to take a moment to just enjoy it before he starts.

Brendon shifts his hips, pushing back gently against Spencer's hands. "Not a museum, Spence," Brendon mumbles, his voice warm and amused. "Not just for looking, come on."

"Oh, I know," Spencer says, swiping his thumbs over the hidden skin between Brendon's cheeks, opening him up so Spencer can get a better look. Brendon makes an interested noise, so Spencer rubs the knuckles of his clean hand just behind Brendon's balls. It's just a tease and Brendon knows it, because he makes a disappointed noise, pressing back like he can will Spencer's fingers into his ass with the power of his mind.

"Relax," Spencer says, trailing the flat of his palm over the tense muscles of Brendon's inner thighs. "I got you."

"I noticed," Brendon says, impatiently. "So now that you have me, maybe you should do something about it, asshole."

"You are the pushiest person I have ever fucked, Jesus," Spencer says. He pulls his hand back and smacks the fleshy part of Brendon's ass. Brendon gasps.

"That," Brendon says, his voice suddenly less cocky, "is not a good way to get me to calm down and you know it."

"Yeah," Spencer says, letting the next few slaps come a little harder, a little firmer. "But it's pretty fun." Before he got together with Brendon, Spencer definitely wasn't into spanking people, but he loves spanking Brendon. Brendon is the biggest endorphin junkie that Spencer's ever met, which is good, because he has this amazing ass that Spencer doesn't think he could keep himself from smacking even if he wanted to. He knows it's a sensation thing, that Brendon loves the surprise of it, the sharp spikes of pain.

Spencer pauses for a moment, rubbing his fingers over the slight red patches which are already starting to form. Brendon whines impatiently.

"Ssshh," Spencer says, even though it's useless. Brendon's going to talk if he wants to talk, and Spencer's going to let him. It's what they do. Spencer secretly likes the way Brendon has absolutely no filter when they're having sex, even if it means he will occasionally stop in the middle to be like "Shit, did we get dog food?"

Spencer lets himself zone out when he starts up again, just smacking Brendon's ass, watching the skin turn red. He rubs the fingers of his wet hand over Brendon's hole when he's done, and Brendon makes a whiny little "Mmmphhf!" noise in response. He immediately starts trying to shove his hips back against Spencer's fingers, but Spencer stops him with a hand on his hip, holding him away. He spreads Brendon open, all pink and soft, and then he pushes just the tip of one finger in. Mostly because he can.

"Spencer," Brendon growls, and Spencer raises an eyebrow at Brendon's tone, low and dangerous. "I'm starting to rethink this arrangement. Hurry the fuck up."

"Oh yeah?" Spencer says, and he slides his fingers in, two at once, thick and intense. Brendon bucks around his fingers, clenching down and letting out a helpless whimper. Spencer smiles, reaching behind himself on the bed for more lube. He licks his lips as he holds Brendon open, two fingers pressed up deep inside him, drizzling more lube around Brendon's hole. Brendon whines more, pressing back as hard as he can, so hard that Spencer's worried about Brendon hurting himself.

"Hey, hey," Spencer says, smacking Brendon's ass once more just for the hell of it, and also because right now it's probably the best way to get Brendon's attention. "B, calm down, fuck, you're going to hurt yourself."

" _You_ try calming down when you've got two fingers in your ass," Brendon mumbles. His voice is tight, ragged at the edges. "Fuck, been waiting all day for this. Three, come on. I want three."

"You are such a greedy motherfucker," Spencer mutters, but he opens the lube again, making sure his ring finger is wet enough before leaning down to bite at the curve of Brendon's ass. Brendon groans, pressing back into the sting of Spencer's teeth. Spencer licks at the marks, rubbing around Brendon's rim before slowly pressing in with three.

Watching Brendon's body slowly open up for him is intoxicating, just like watching the way Brendon gets when he's demanding and impatient will never get old. And yet there's always a tipping point when they play like this, a moment when Brendon will eventually drop over the edge into an intense endorphin high. When that happens he's suddenly pliant, content to ride out whatever Spencer feels like giving him. Helping Brendon shift into that head-space is one of Spencer's favorite things in the world. He loves taking care of Brendon when he's like that, loves helping Brendon feel what Brendon always describes after the fact as 'the best fucking feeling in the world.'

"Shit," Brendon hisses, and Spencer snaps back to the present, where Brendon is obviously not there yet, because he's still talking. Spencer twists his fingers, spreading them carefully, letting his other hand cup Brendon's balls. He rubs softly over the skin, and Brendon whines, shifting his hips so he can fuck himself back onto Spencer's fingers. Spencer presses down while he does it, brushing his fingers over Brendon's prostate over and over but keeping the pressure light. He wants to draw this out, wants to make Brendon sweat and work for it. He knows it will make Brendon come way harder in the end.

"Spence," Brendon says, low and rough. "Spencer. Can you—fuck. Can we—"

"What?" Spencer says, keeping his voice even. He palms the round curve of Brendon's ass, nipping at his skin a few more times, just for good measure. Seriously, Brendon's ass. Spencer has kind of a problem.

"Four," Brendon manages, the words catching in his throat when Spencer bites down harder. "Four, come on, I want four."

Spencer stills his fingers and his mouth, momentarily thrown for a loop. "You sure?" Spencer says, blinking, because they've never done that. Brendon has never asked for it. Spencer also isn't sure his fist will actually fit inside Brendon; like, for real, he's not sure it's possible. He's seen it on the Internet, but Brendon is kind of a little dude and Spencer has big hands and also Brendon, as incredibly hot as he is, is not a porn star.

"Don't—not your whole hand," Brendon says, "fuck, oh god," He's still working himself back against Spencer's unmoving fingers, his back shining with sweat. "Just. Four fingers or your cock, I don't care, but _more._ "

"Yeah," Spencer says, suddenly breathless at the idea of it. Fuck, Brendon's _never_ asked for this. Spencer's not sure he can say no.

He puts one hand on Brendon's hip, pulling his fingers out carefully and petting Brendon's back when he whines in frustration. Brendon's whole body is tensed up, straining towards something that Spencer's not ready to give him yet, at least not until he lubes up the rest of his hand. He thinks Brendon's back muscles might actually be shaking. Spencer needs to figure out a way to calm Brendon down before they do this, because he's starting to worry that Brendon's past the point of being able to tell 'good pain' from 'bad pain,' and if he is, there's no way in hell Spencer's going to let Brendon talk him into fisting him right now.

"Breathe," Spencer says softly, bending down so he can lick carefully over Brendon's hole. The best thing about this weird new organic lube that Brendon insisted on buying is that it actually tastes pretty good, as opposed to the chemical taste of the stuff they used to use. The one thing that used to trip Spencer up about rimming was the taste, and now that they've solved that problem, Spencer loves it unabashedly.

Brendon's shifts back into Spencer's tongue with a gasp, the muscles in his back starting to relax after a few minutes. Spencer smiles against Brendon's skin, licking over him carefully, little kitten licks that make Brendon flutter underneath his tongue. He can feel the way Brendon's coming down from the edge, his whole body unlocking from the desperate tension of earlier.

"Better?" Spencer says. He pulls back, pressing a final kiss to Brendon's tailbone and then drizzling lube over his entire hand. God, this is going to get messy. Spencer does not care even a little bit.

"Yeah," Brendon says, the tone of his voice much less frantic than before. "Sorry, I just—I was so—"

"You really should stop apologizing now," Spencer murmurs, carefully staring to feed his fingers into Brendon's body, rubbing along Brendon's rim to get him to relax and open up. He kisses Brendon's tailbone again, keeping his voice light and fond. "I mean, oh damn, my life is so hard, sometimes I have to rim you to calm you down so I can stick my hand in your ass."

Brendon snorts with laughter, his body jerking as Spencer pushes his ring finger in. "Wow," Brendon breathes, as Spencer starts trying to tuck his fingers in so that he can actually fit his pinkie inside Brendon.

"We still good?" Spencer says. Fuck. He hopes Brendon's still good. Spencer desperately wants to see Brendon take four of his fingers, just this once.

"Yeah," Brendon says. "Just. Slow." He's squirming on Spencer's fingers, starting to press back with the tiniest of motions.

"Real slow," Spencer agrees. He gets his fingers tucked under, as best as he can, and then he rubs his other hand over the curve of Brendon's ass. "Deep breath, and then let it out, okay?" Spencer says. "Like, I know you know that, but it's going to make it easier."

"Yeah," Brendon says. He draws in a breath, and then he's releasing it with a soft noise and Spencer's sliding his pinkie in. Brendon's body takes him easier than he expected, a bit of resistance but not as much as he feared, and then Brendon's clenching around him and Spencer can't do anything other than stare in amazement at his hand.

Which is mostly inside of Brendon.

Fuck.

Brendon makes a high, keening noise, pressing back against Spencer's hand. "Oh god," Brendon gasps out. "Oh fucking, oh fuck—"

"Yeah," Spencer says, uselessly. He can't stop staring at his hand in Brendon's ass. "Wow."

"Move your fingers," Brendon pants out. "Just a little, just—please, please—" He breaks off, whining helplessly when Spencer crooks his fingers, and then he lets out a low moan, his whole body relaxing. Spencer's hand slides in deeper, up to the crook of his thumb.

 _Oh,_ Spencer thinks, with that familiar rush of pride and protectiveness, because here, now, this is the moment again. He can feel it in Brendon's body, hear it in the desperate edge to his whines.

"I got you," Spencer whispers, pushing his fingers into Brendon's body, careful, over and over, a thick slide that has Brendon whimpering and clenching around him. Spencer wishes he could see Brendon's face. He can't stop running his other hand over the spread of Brendon's body, his thin shoulders and his hipbones and the backs of his thighs and everything, everything. All Spencer can see in this moment is the flush of Brendon's skin, a hint of eyelash and hot mouth, the sunlight on Brendon's pillow and the sweet tension in the lines of his body. He's beautiful.

"Fuck," Brendon whispers. His body shakes around Spencer's fingers, and Spencer can't close his mouth, can't do anything other than stare as Brendon starts to come. He doesn't know whether he should move his hand or like, _not_ movehis hand, and Brendon's still clenching around him so he just rubs Brendon's back as he slowly comes back to earth.

"Ow," Brendon says, after a minute or so has passed.

Spencer bites his lip, bracing his clean hand on Brendon's hip so the slide out won't be quite so rough. "I'm going to," Spencer says.

Brendon nods quickly, still panting. "Yeah, yeah, no, it's, it's kind of—"

"Too much?" Spencer says, pulling his fingers out as smoothly as he can. Brendon chokes back a gasp when he's all the way out, shifting restlessly on the bed, obviously feeling sore. "Sorry," Spencer says, stroking his fingers over Brendon's skin. "I didn't want to surprise you and just, like, pull out right after. Maybe I should have."

"No, it's okay," Brendon says, rolling over and opening his eyes to blink hazily at Spencer. "Usually I like 'too much' but that was. That was a lot. "

"I noticed," Spencer says. His voice comes out surprisingly rough.

"You _liked_ that." Brendon says. It's not a question. He tilts his head, giving Spencer a lazy once-over, still catching his breath. "You fucking loved watching me get off on your whole hand, didn't you?"

"It wasn't my whole hand," Spencer says, before he can stop himself, and Brendon's eyes widen.

"Um," Spencer says, awkwardly, when the pause stretches out into silence. "Anyway."

"You want to try that?" Brendon says. "Your whole hand?"

"Um," Spencer says again. He thinks he might be blushing.

"Let me think about it," Brendon says, and his tone is low and interested. "Not today, but. Shit, that would be a lot."

"Yeah," Spencer manages. His cock is fucking throbbing. It's a dull, intense ache. He's insanely close, just from watching Brendon get off like that, and it takes all of his concentration to close his eyes and push the feeling back down, to capture it and hold it and tell it to wait.

It's almost exhilarating when he manages to open his eyes again, when he knows for certain he's past the danger zone of being so worked up that he can't pull back from the edge. Brendon is sitting in front of him, cross-legged. He half-smiles as Spencer opens his eyes. "I love watching you do that," Brendon says, brushing his thumb over high crest of Spencer's cheekbone. He grins, sweet and wide. "It's so awesome."

"I'm glad you enjoyed the show," Spencer says, raising a curious eyebrow at him. "I loved watching you get off, so I think we're even."

"Dick," Brendon says mildly. He glances down at Spencer's lap, and then he looks up and wiggles his eyebrows, like he just realized that he made a great joke, ha-ha, he called Spencer a dick and then Spencer also _has a dick_ , and sometimes Spencer cannot believe he's actually in love with this guy because Brendon is fucking _lame._

"That was clever," Spencer says dryly. "You're a genius."

"You fucking know it," Brendon says, pulling Spencer in so he can kiss him on the nose. He pulls back, mouth opening again to say something cocky, and then surprises both himself and Spencer by yawning long and loud. Spencer makes a _tsk, tsk_ sound, tapping his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I guess there's a reason people do this shit when they're in high school," Spencer says. "Old men like us just can't keep up."

"Blow me," Brendon says, reaching up to lock his arms around Spencer's neck and then pulling backwards, letting his weight hang until he tugs Spencer down onto the bed. Spencer's head hits the pillow face-first, tucked over Brendon's shoulder, and he has to admit, it's kind of nice. He's actually weirdly ready for a nap himself, but first he needs to bust Brendon's balls for a second.

"All those orgasms tired you out, huh," Spencer mumbles, his face still pressed to the pillow. Brendon bites his shoulder. "Ow," Spencer says, frowning. He lifts his head up to glare at Brendon. "That hurt, asshole."

"Stop being a dick and take a nap with me," Brendon says, rolling over so he can situate himself in the cradle of Spencer's arms. Spencer pulls him in, nuzzling the back of Brendon's neck. "It's only noon. You can make me come a lot more later."

"Whee," Spencer says dryly, but he makes sure that Brendon can feel the shape of Spencer's smile against the back of his neck. Brendon pushes his ass more firmly back into Spencer's crotch, because he likes to play dirty.

"Yeah," Brendon mumbles sleepily, when Spencer suddenly goes silent. "Yeah, what _now_." Oh god, maybe Spencer's not as in-control as he'd thought, because his dick is suddenly very interested in these proceedings, ready and raring to go.

"Shut up," Spencer says. His voice comes out breathy, higher than normal. "Just go to sleep. And uh. Don't move around too much."

Brendon snickers into his pillow, pushing his ass back more firmly, a slow, careful grind. Then he pauses, turning so he can peer over his shoulder at Spencer. "That hurts," Brendon says, sounding disappointed. "I want to fuck with you more but I'm all sore."

"I would have a lot of sympathy for you right now," Spencer says, his face still mashed into Brendon's shoulder, "I really would, if you weren't using your ass for nefarious purposes." He yawns, raising his head so he can meet Brendon's eyes. "You're okay, though, right?" Spencer says, because as much as he enjoys teasing Brendon he doesn't actually want him to be in pain.

"Totally," Brendon says, leaning in for another quick kiss. His expression turns softer around the edges. "You know me. I like feeling it."

"Yeah," Spencer says, and tries not to think about how stupidly hot he finds that particular quirk. He palms Brendon's bare hipbone and tries to concentrate on the last time he saw the Cubs play. Brendon's breathing has gone lazy and thick, gentle inhales that signify how close he already is to falling asleep.

Spencer closes his eyes and thinks about batting averages.

—

And then Spencer wakes up with Brendon's dick all up in his business.

Again.

"Didn't we already do this," Spencer yawns, batting Brendon's sleepy hands away from his dick. "Like. Today?"

"I'm making up for lost time," Brendon says, sucking a sloppy kiss into Spencer's collarbone. He has one hand fisted around his cock, stroking lazily, his whole body curving in around Spencer's so he can molest him without having to move too much. Spencer appreciates the effort, but he's got something else entirely planned for this round, and if Brendon doesn't slow down he's going to miss out before they even get started.

"Don't do that," Spencer says, finally managing to force his eyes all the way open. His head is still fuzzy, like it always is when he naps in the middle of the day. He bats at Brendon's hand. "Stop jerking yourself off."

"Why?" Brendon says. "You want to do it?"

"No, I want you to fuck me," Spencer says, and he's rewarded with a surprised noise and the sight of Brendon pausing mid-stroke.

"Really?" Brendon says, wide-eyed.

"Yeah," Spencer says. He rolls on to his back, stretching out with a sigh. "That was my big plan. Grab the towel I used before. I think it's on the floor near the end of the bed."

"Holy _shit_ ," Brendon says, and scrambles for the towel. Spencer bites his lip in amusement. It's not like he's one of those assholes who never let their boyfriends fuck them, but at the same time, it's not something he's always in the mood for. He can't just relax into it like Brendon does.  
Brendon's head pops up next to the edge of the bed. "While I'm down here," Brendon says, and then Spencer hears the scrape of a box being dragged across the floor.

"Yeah," Spencer says, because he knows which box Brendon's fumbling in. "The blue one, I think. Or shit. Maybe it's the black one?"

"This one?" Brendon says, holding up a small plug and waving it around with one hand while he continues searching with the other.

"No, the larger one," Spencer says, because the one Brendon's holding is barely the width of two fingers, more of a sensation toy than anything else. There's a pretty big difference between even three of Brendon's small fingers, and Brendon's dick.

"This one?" Brendon says, holding up the larger one, and Spencer nods at him before realizing that Brendon's still not looking at him. "Yeah," Spencer says, clearing his throat. He's suddenly a little dry. Spencer doesn't really believe in Pavlovian psychology but at the same time, all he can think about when he sees that plug is the last time Brendon fucked him, and the time before that, and all of a sudden his stomach is doing that excited-nervous thing, flipping up and down in slow motion.

"Awesome," Brendon says, setting the plug down on the edge of the towel. "Anything else you want while I'm down here?"

"Nah," Spencer says, the words cracking on a yawn. There's a lot of shit he's planning for later that involves that box, but they can cross that bridge when they come to it. "Just come up here and make out with me," Spencer says, and Brendon nods, scrambling up the bed and landing heavy on Spencer's chest.

"Hi," Brendon says, his mouth curving into a smile as he kisses Spencer's chin, his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. "Hi, Spencer."

"You are way too excited about this," Spencer mumbles, but he lets Brendon nudge his way into Spencer's space, lets him kiss Spencer's mouth open and wrap himself around Spencer until Spencer's covered in warm skin. Brendon bites down gently, slipping his tongue between Spencer's parted lips. Spencer opens his mouth wider, letting Brendon in, and then he groans because Brendon is fucking his tongue into Spencer's mouth and it's both kind of hot and kind of stupid.

"You are not subtle," Spencer says, pulling away and raising an eyebrow at Brendon. Brendon smirks, rolling his hips into Spencer's.

"Subtlety gets you nowhere in life," Brendon says, running his palm up the outside of Spencer's thigh. "Subtlety does not get you fucked."

"Having sex is not the be-all and end-all of existence," Spencer points out, shifting into the touch. Brendon's hands are kneading at the tight muscles of his thighs and calves and Spencer thinks he might be making an accidental purring noise. It feels _so_ good.

"It is today," Brendon says, winking. "You want a massage?"

"You're giving me one," Spencer points out, groaning at the feeling of Brendon pressing his thumb into a particularly tense spot. It's like pleasure that hovers just to one side of pain, and Spencer can't believe how awesome it feels right now.

"Turn over," Brendon says, squeezing Spencer's thigh. "I'll give you a real massage."

"This is supposed to be about you," Spencer frowns.

"Giving you massages gets me hot," Brendon says.

"No it doesn't," Spencer says.

"Okay," Brendon says. "Okay, you're right, maybe it doesn't. But getting you all super relaxed before I fuck you _does_ get me hot."

"Yeah?" Spencer says, biting his lip.

"Yeah," Brendon says, leaning down to leave a sharp, stinging bite just underneath Spencer's ear. "Turn over," Brendon breathes, and Spencer decides to just go with it, rolling over on to his stomach. He feels Brendon settle on top of him, straddling his hips, and then Brendon's hands are kneading at the tight masses of muscle near his shoulder blades and Spencer groans out his support for this plan. His face is pressed directly into the pillow. Spencer's pretty sure that breathing is optional when something feels _this_ awesome. He's still a little freaked out about the sex, though.

"This is the gayest thing we've ever done," Spencer points out, trying to distract himself from the way his stomach is fluttering with nerves.

"What tipped you off?" Brendon says easily, digging his fingers into a knot. "All the fisting? I could light some candles, if that's what you need."

Spencer snorts. "I'm just saying," Spencer says. "You're like. You're giving me a sexy massage."

"No," Brendon says. "I'm giving you a really fucking necessary massage, Jesus, Spence." Spencer feels the swipe of Brendon's hand smacking his ass, and he squeaks in surprise. "Are you actually okay with this?" Brendon says, running his thumbs up Spencer's back, on either side of his spine. "Because right now your getting-fucked issues are sort of blinding me here, dude."

"I don't have getting-fucked issues," Spencer says, turning his head to frown at Brendon.

"You have huge getting-fucked issues," Brendon says gently, leaning down to kiss the back of Spencer's neck. "Massive. Visible from space. It's okay."

"I just," Spencer shakes his head. "I just. You know." He presses his face farther into the pillow. It's so stupid, and he _knows_ it's stupid, but every once in a while his brain will flare up and he'll get really nervous, which has a tendency to ruin everything because Spencer gets bitchy when he's scared. Spencer hates himself when it happens, but Brendon's never given him shit about it, just pulled out and suggested they try something else. Spencer's boyfriend is kind of amazing sometimes.

"So this is cool?" Brendon says, working his magic fingers into the tight knot of tension at the base of Spencer's neck. "You're not just doing this for me, right? Because as much as I love fucking you, it's no fun if you're lying back and thinking of England while we do it."

"Definitely not thinking about England," Spencer says, sighing in pleasure as the knot begins to unwind. "Trust me. I have never once thought about England while we were having sex."

"That's not actually reassuring," Brendon says. "Now I'm just waiting for you to be like, 'no, actually, I was thinking about Russia—' "

"Shut up," Spencer says, snickering. "Fine. I don't think about random countries while we have sex. I think about how you have your dick up my ass, and how it feels really good." Spencer's voice wavers slightly on the last bit, but he's choosing to ignore it. He's already feeling slightly more relaxed, helped along by Brendon's magic hands. It's just that stupid part in between deciding to get fucked and actually getting fucked that always gets him, those few moments when his brain decides to inform him that SOMETHING IS WEIRD in all capital letters.

"It does feel really good," Brendon says, lowering himself down so that he's lying on top of Spencer, covering him up with his whole body. "I'm a fan." He runs his fingers along the long stretch of Spencer's sides, all the way down and then back up again, following a meandering path.

"I know you are," Spencer says, sucking in a breath when he feels the sharp sting of Brendon's teeth on the shell of his ear.

"You want to come this time?" Brendon murmurs, flicking his tongue out. His mouth is wet and hot, his tongue tracing the curve of Spencer's ear. "You want to try and push it longer, or do you want to come for me?"

"Yeah," Spencer gasps out, pushing his hips back up, feeling the hard press of Brendon's dick up against his ass.

"Which one?" Brendon says, beginning to slide down Spencer's body, leaving kisses as he goes. "You didn't answer the question."

"Want—wanted to wait for you," Spencer manages, closing his eyes. He can feel a faint blush starting up on his cheeks. It's always so _different_ when he lets Brendon take control. Brendon's nipping his teeth along Spencer's spine, little bites mixed with kisses. It feels awesome. It's making Spencer's skin all shivery, the good kind of shivery, because he can't predict what's coming next, another nip or an open-mouthed kiss.

"Yeah? You've been waiting all day for me?" Brendon says. He pauses for a moment. "Fuck, that's really hot," he murmurs. He leans down and bites at the curve of Spencer's ass, sinking his teeth in for a moment before licking gently over the marks.

"I thought so too," Spencer says. Brendon's hands are on his ass, spreading him open, and Spencer has another knee-jerk moment of panic until he feels Brendon's tongue teasing at his entrance, licking over him gently. Spencer groans, pressing his face farther into the mattress, a wave of arousal rushing through him and settling in his stomach. He can count on one hand the number of times Brendon has done this to him, mostly because Spencer usually feels weird about it. But right now Spencer doesn't even care about his stupid brain, fuck, from now on he's asking Brendon to do this to him once a _day._

"Did you get better at this or something?" Spencer manages, arching his spine and pressing his hips back as Brendon holds him open for his tongue. " _Christ_ , Brendon—"

"No," Brendon says. "You're just less tense this time around, because I gave you a big gay massage and you loved it."

"Right," Spencer says. Brendon's mouth and his tongue are so, so soft. Every lick sends a shiver up Spencer's spine. His dick is rock hard underneath his stomach.

"Gonna finger you now," Brendon mumbles, pulling his mouth away. Spencer tries not to whimper at the loss. He wants Brendon to keep doing that forever, fuck. He doesn't want it to be over yet. He wants Brendon's tongue back in his ass.

"Sure," Spencer says quickly. "Sure, no problem. Good idea."

"You sound kind of weird," Brendon says. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yup," Spencer says. He can feel how hot his cheeks are. His stomach rolls at the thought of asking Brendon to keep going, but fuck, he wants it so bad. "Excellent. Wonderful. Thanks for asking."

"...Right," Brendon says carefully. "Okay." Brendon's hands are on his ass, his fingers suddenly wet and cold against Spencer's entrance.

"Okayfuckitmaybeyoucouldkeepdoingthat," Spencer mumbles, before he loses his nerve. His face is flaming. This is so dumb. He does this to Brendon _all the time._ He fucking _loves_ making Brendon come with just his fingers and his mouth. He has no idea why it's so hard for him to ask Brendon for the same thing.

"Do what?" Brendon says, pressing the tips of two of his fingers up against Spencer's hole. "This?"

"No," Spencer says, "um, nevermind, forget I said that—"

"Kidding," Brendon murmurs, his voice low, and then he's pressing one finger all the way in while he licks around the rim of Spencer's hole, and Spencer's moaning out his appreciation.

"That was mean," Spencer groans, his stomach settling down and evening out as Brendon continues to lick at him. "So mean, oh my god."

"I tease because I love," Brendon says, but then he's pulling back, dropping little kisses on Spencer's skin. "That was a little mean, though," Brendon admits. "Sorry. You doing okay? You still want to keep going?"

"Yeah," Spencer says. "I'm really good, keep going."

"I can tell," Brendon says, sinking another finger into Spencer's ass. "I'm giving you a massage every single time we fuck from now on. You're so much more relaxed than you usually are."

"Yeah," Spencer manages. Brendon's barely giving him a chance to catch his breath. He's two fingers deep in Spencer's ass and his mouth is hot and wet and _everywhere_ because Brendon doesn't really have any pesky lines when it comes to sex. He's just kissing and licking everything he can reach, the underside of Spencer's balls and his perineum and around his own fingers and _into Spencer's ass_ , oh god.

" _Brendon_ ," Spencer whines, flailing his hand out for something to hold on to. He ends up with his hand on Brendon's ankle, which is good enough for him. "More," he says desperately, squeezing down so Brendon knows he's not fucking around. Not that Brendon would think he's fucking around anyway, but it's really hard to think while all of his synapses are firing at once, lighting up like little sex fireworks in his brain. "More fingers, the plug, something, anything, I need—"

"Yeah," Brendon says, and then he's pressing a third finger in alongside the first two and Spencer groans out his appreciation. He can't remember the last time he was this into it but right now it's just working for him, working like it's _supposed_ to work. "So pretty like this," Brendon says quietly, pressing more kisses against his fingers, against Spencer's hole. "You want to try the plug? You ready for it?"

"Uh-huh," Spencer says. Words are beyond him. Shit, his dick is so fucking hard for this. He doesn't even know.

"Tell me if it's too much," Brendon says, drawing his fingers out carefully.

Spencer moans at the loss, at the way he's suddenly so open, so empty. Then one of Brendon's hands is on his ass, holding him open again, and he's pressing the plug up against Spencer's hole and it just—slides in, almost half-way to the base and Spencer moans with how goddamn _good_ it feels. Every time before this it's always been a stretch, even with Brendon fingering him. It's always been weird and tight and sort of uncomfortable until he relaxes enough to get into it but all of a sudden he's starting to get why Brendon loves this so much, because _holy shit_. He can hear Brendon murmuring his name, over and over, can feel him petting Spencer's back with his other hand, but Spencer can't do anything other than grab at the sheets and press back against the plug until the whole thing is finally seated inside of him.

"Fuck," Brendon says. He sounds a little awed, and a lot turned on. "Fuck, Spencer, are you okay? You just took that whole thing, the whole plug, are you—is it—"

"So okay," Spencer mumbles, gasping as Brendon starts to gently rub the base of the plug. "So fucking okay, oh my god Brendon."

"So hot," Brendon says, pressing his fingers down on the base, pushing it just that little bit farther into Spencer's body. His other hand is playing with Spencer's balls, cupping them up close to his body. "So hot, Spence."

"Yeah," Spencer says. He can't get over how good it feels to clench down on the plug, the way his entire body feels shivery and hot. Like, _really_ shivery and hot.

"Brendon," Spencer groans. "Brendon, fuck, you have to—stop. Stop for a second," Spencer pants, trying to breathe.

"You okay?" Brendon says, sounding suddenly worried. He takes his hand off the plug, stroking Spencer's ass and thighs instead. "Is it too much? We can go back to just fingers."

"Trying not to come," Spencer pants out. "Just. Just don't touch me for a few seconds, okay? And then put a goddamn condom on and fuck me, oh my god."

Brendon's hand stills on Spencer's ass, and then Spencer can hear Brendon snickering from behind him.

"Yes _sir_ ," Brendon says, slapping Spencer's ass lightly. Spencer chokes for a moment, because shit, that slap just made him clench down again and he's not sure he can hold off.

"Hate you," Spencer manages, reaching behind himself to carefully pull the plug out. He drops it somewhere on the bed, too far gone to even care. His whole body is tingling. Brendon needs to fuck him _right now._ "I hate you so much. Seriously, hurry up and stick your dick in my ass."

"Love you too, Spence," Brendon says. Spencer hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and then it flies past his head to land on their pillow. He is so getting Brendon for that later. After he's made him come a couple more times, and also after Brendon's done fucking him. Right now Brendon fucking him is definitely the most important part.

"Ready?" Brendon says. His dick is suddenly pressed up against Spencer's hole, warm and slick and _right there_ , but he's waiting for Spencer to say it's okay. Spencer appreciates the thought, he really does, but he's also pretty sure that he can get away with just rubbing his ass back onto Brendon's dick and hoping he gets the message.

"Shit," Brendon moans out, when Spencer presses back even harder. The tip of his cock slides right in, and Brendon makes this little gaspy noise and then he's pushing into Spencer, whining as he bottoms out. "Sorry," Brendon says. "Sorry, I just—"

"Not complaining," Spencer gasps. Brendon's dick _is_ a stretch, even coming off the plug, but Spencer's far gone enough that he doesn't care. It's some kind of weird pain-and-pleasure combination that Spencer's never felt before; normally by this point he's either calling a halt to the whole process, because Brendon's dick hurts, or Brendon has fingered him into submission and everything just feels hot and wet and slick. This is something else, a slow burn of heat and pressure that just makes Spencer want _more_ , makes him want to chase the sensation until it resolves itself either way.

He pushes back against Brendon, fumbling until he can get up on his knees and get one hand on his dick. There's a big wet spot on the towel from where his cock was pressed up against his stomach, smearing pre-come everywhere as he was rubbing off against Brendon's hands and his mouth and the mattress.

"Just move, it's okay," Spencer says. Brendon pushes his hips forward, fucking him with slow, careful strokes, whimpering as he slides his cock farther and farther into Spencer's ass on each one. "No, _harder_ ," Spencer groans out, his hand flying on his cock. He doesn't know how to get the message across that he's almost there, already, he's so goddamn close and all he wants right now is Brendon fucking him hard and fast.

"Can't—gonna come," Brendon whines out, picking up the pace. "I can't—oh, shit," Brendon says, and then he's fucking Spencer with long, uneven strokes, pounding into him, his hands tight on Spencer's hips. Spencer's barely hanging on, his balls drawn up tight against his body. He's trying to meet Brendon's thrusts but it's easier to just let himself get washed away in the sensation, to clench down around Brendon's cock and stay still so Brendon can fuck into him deep and rough.

"Spencer," Brendon moans out, his fingers digging in tight enough to bruise. "Spencer, fuck, so good, you feel so good, I can't—I'm gonna—"

"Want it," Spencer gasps out, "Come on, want you to—" Every muscle in Spencer's body is pulled tight, he's so fucking ready, and then he feels Brendon slam his hips in deep, whimpering helplessly as he starts to come. And shit, Spencer can _feel_ it, can feel the way Brendon's dick is pulsing deep inside of him, and that's it, he's gone. It's so intense that he almost can't breathe, for a few moments, and when he comes to his whole stomach is sticky and his face is pressed into the pillow and Brendon's on top of him, panting into his ear.

"Fucking _hell_ ," Spencer gasps out, because it's the only thing he can think of to say. He thinks his toes might be numb.

"Broken," Brendon mumbles. His chest is heaving. "So broken, fuck."

"Broken?" Spencer says, trying to will his brain into working faster.

"Everything is broken," Brendon says. "My dick. Everything. That's it, I'm never coming ever again."

"What?" Spencer says.

"Your ass seriously just broke me," Brendon says, and then Spencer's brain finally gets with the program and informs him that Brendon is just orgasm-stupid right now and rambling into his ear.

"Sorry," Spencer says. His voice is thick and rough. "I think your dick just broke _me_ , so now we're even."

"It was a good way to go," Brendon agrees, kissing the back of Spencer's neck. He sits up, slow and careful. "Gonna pull out now," Brendon says, and Spencer nods into the pillow. He winces when Brendon pulls out, but it only hurts for a moment and then he mostly just feels vaguely sore.

"That was," Brendon says, flopping back down on the bed next to Spencer. He has a seriously intense sex-flush going on, all over his chest and his face and even his stomach.  
"That," Brendon says uselessly, flapping his hands.

Spencer nods. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah."

"I think I'm done," Brendon says, shaking his head. "For real, I think I hit my limit."

"Really?" Spencer says, feeling faintly disappointed. He'd had a few other ideas in mind for today and he'd been looking forward to trying them out, his current stupor notwithstanding.

"Seriously," Brendon says. "Like, maybe if I hadn't come so hard just now, I could keep going, but that was—" Brendon rolls onto his side, seeking out Spencer's mouth and kissing him deep and messy. "—amazing," Brendon says quietly, after he pulls away. "That was pretty amazing, Spence."

"Yup," Spencer says, because his brain is still running a little behind schedule.

"You came _really_ hard," Brendon says, letting his hand drift down Spencer's side. "Like—god, that was so fucking hot. You've never come that hard on my dick before."

"I think that's how it's supposed to work," Spencer says, and then hurries to correct himself when Brendon gives him an unimpressed look. "No, I mean," Spencer says. "It never—it's never felt like that before. I was always too freaked out to relax. This time was different."

"Yeah?" Brendon says, brushing some of Spencer's sweaty hair off his face.

"Yeah," Spencer says, catching Brendon's hand and bringing it to his mouth. He kisses Brendon's knuckles, because it's easier than trying to translate his mental state into words. Brendon's eyes go soft when he does it.

"Love you," Brendon says quietly. Spencer kisses his knuckles again, and then he lets them go. There's a moment where they're both staring at each other, just breathing, big stupid smiles on both of their faces, and then Brendon says, "Hey, you know what else I love?"

"Food?" Spencer guesses.

"Food," Brendon says. "And _beer._ Let's go drink beer."

"Okay," Spencer says. He thinks vague thoughts about moving, and how that might be a nice thing to do sometime in the next century. "How about I stay here and you bring me the food and the beer."

"How about you get your lazy ass out of bed," Brendon says.

"How about I lie here and think about it instead," Spencer says. "I like that plan."

"No," Brendon says, flicking Spencer in the thigh. He presses a final kiss to Spencer's shoulder, and then rolls up into a sitting position, stretching his back out before standing up. "Well," Brendon says, grabbing his discarded basketball shorts off the floor and tugging them on. " _I'm_ going to go downstairs and make food and drink beer." He looks over at Spencer and snickers. Spencer thinks about how maybe—if he's going to lie here for the rest of time—he might want to cover up. He is definitely just lying on their bed with his dick out and his arms and legs splayed everywhere.

"Good for you," Spencer says. "Congratulations. I'll come downstairs when I can move again."

"Uh-huh," Brendon says, still snickering as he walks out.

—

"So how's that sex coma working out for you?" Brendon says, as Spencer walks into the kitchen. Brendon has most of the contents of their fridge spread out on the countertop, as well as a can of cheap beer, and he's constructing what seems to be a truly epic sandwich.

"Pretty well, actually," Spencer says. Now that he's less orgasm-stupid, he can appreciate the way his whole body feels sort of pleasantly sore. Usually he's just _sore_ , which isn't all that much fun. "Hey, you should make me a sandwich."

"You should make your own damn sandwich," Brendon says, but his tone is light. He glances over his shoulder at Spencer and smiles. "I'm very busy. This is a work of art." He squints down at his cutting board, and then reaches for more bacon.

"Wait," Spencer says. "Wait, are you doing that thing you do where you put all the warm stuff on it and stick it in the oven and then put all the vegetables—"

"Yes," Brendon says. He gives their oven a significant glance. "And it's almost done pre-heating, hurry up."

"I love you," Spencer says, very seriously. He grabs two slices of bread, shoving cheese and turkey and bacon and pepperoni on it in a big pile. It's such a dumb little thing, and he knows it, but for some reason before he moved in with Brendon it had never occurred to Spencer that he could toast half the sandwich and then make the rest of it, like people do at sub shops. He had all these weird mayo concerns, and then Brendon pointed out that you just put the mayo in the middle, and it was seriously a fucking revelation for someone who enjoys sandwiches as much as Spencer does.

"You are so weird," Brendon says, eyeing Spencer's precariously piled sandwich with trepidation as Spencer drops it on the baking sheet.

"Because I don't care about how my sandwich looks before I eat it?" Spencer says, rummaging in the fridge for his own can of watery beer.

"No," Brendon says. "Just in general."

"Just in general, you're weirder," Spencer says. "Where's Bogart?"

"Outside," Brendon says, nodding towards the kitchen window. Spencer peers over Brendon's shoulder to see Bogart resting in the shade in their backyard, panting happily underneath their one big tree. Spencer doesn't know what kind of tree it is. He's been meaning to look it up for a while, and also check to see if it's one of those trees that doesn't respond well to dogs peeing on it all the time, because it's definitely one of Bogart's favorite bathroom spots.

"So what's the plan for the rest of the day?" Spencer says, cracking open his own beer.

Brendon gives their beer-and-sandwich mess on the counter another significant look, and then he carefully lifts his own sandwich monstrosity onto the baking sheet, next to Spencer's.

"Eating and getting drunk?" Spencer guesses.

"And video games," Brendon says. "And weed."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Spencer says.

"Besides my ass, you mean," Brendon says lightly, as he leans over to feed their loaded-up baking sheet into the oven.

"That too," Spencer says. "Oh, speaking of which—" He sets down his beer, leaning over to grab his camera off the kitchen island. "Strip," Spencer says, thumbing the "On" button. "If you're done for the day, we need to take pictures."

"Dude," Brendon says. "I'm all covered in mustard, hang on." He waggles his fingers at Spencer, and then reaches over to rinse his hands off.

"Trust me," Spencer says. "When you look at these later, you won't notice the mustard." When he looks through the viewfinder, the late-afternoon light provides a sharp contrast to the light from earlier that morning. Everything is golden, now, no rays of sharp sunlight to peek through the curtains and dance on Brendon's shoulders and neck, illuminating patches of bare skin. Brendon has several hickeys trailed across his collarbone that Spencer doesn't remember making. Trails of faint scratch-marks circle his left hip, front to back.

"Take your pants off," Spencer says, trying to focus in on the scratch-marks. He doesn't know when those happened, either.

"We're going to burn the sandwiches," Brendon says, but he shuffles out of his basketball shorts, tilting his body against the countertop so he can present to the camera. The inside of his thighs are shiny with lube, and his dick is soft and flushed and red. Spencer swallows.

"How does it look?" Brendon says, looking down at himself and then brushing his fingers gently over the scratch marks. "Good shots?" He looks up at Spencer through his eyelashes, and Spencer has to pause and focus to catch that moment, to _click-click-click_ away as Brendon's expression shades into transparency and then back again.

"Really good shots," Spencer says, setting down the camera once he's done. He reaches for his beer without looking, his fingers closing around the metal can, slipping with perspiration. It's strange, Spencer thinks to himself, as he finishes the beer in two more long pulls, his eyes falling shut. He can spend all day around Brendon—spend all day _fucking_ Brendon, even—and yet Brendon can still disarm him so easily, send him into a tailspin without even trying.

Spencer's been here before. He knows that what he's feeling right now is essentially the definition of love, real stay-together-forever-buy-houses-adopt-babies-take-care-of-him-while-he's-sick kind of love, but it still feels strange and overwhelming. It's new every time—a slightly different perspective, a new angle of view.

"Do you think if I was really careful, I could eat my sandwich in the shower?" Brendon muses. Spencer chokes on the last sip, coughing as he brings it away from his mouth. So much for romantic realizations. Except not, because he still loves Brendon just as much when he's a dumbass.

"It'd get all soggy," Spencer points out. "And cold. And damp."

"We drink beer in the shower all the time," Brendon points out.

"That's because drinking beer in the shower is a long and time-honored summer tradition," Spencer says. "There's a reason people don't eat sandwiches in the shower."

"Even if I hold it outside the shower?" Brendon says. "I could put it on a plate. Sneak my head out for bites."

"It's not like I'm going to stop you from trying," Spencer says, shrugging.

"If this works it's going to change our fucking lives," Brendon says. "Just you wait. Sandwiches _in the shower._ "

"You really do have a weird obsession with eating food when you're not supposed to be eating it," Spencer says, thinking back to this morning and how he'd had to convince Brendon to put the waffles down before getting a blowjob. "Is this some kind of secret sex kink I should know about?"

"It's about how food is awesome and I want to be able to eat it _all the time_ ," Brendon says. "And it's bullshit that there are times when I can't theoretically be eating. Like in the shower."

"You work on that oh-so-vital problem," Spencer says, "let me know how it works out for you."

"Don't worry," Brendon says, both his hands covered up in their giant potholders that look like cactuses. He points at Spencer with one cactus-hand. "I will. I've got this shit on lockdown."

—

"I still can't believe you convinced me to mop the bathroom floor after you dropped your sandwich all over it," Spencer says, after he's nudged the bong back towards Brendon and slowly exhaled his own hit.

"It's because I'm cute and unassuming," Brendon mumbles, as he flicks the lighter. The bong rumbles and bubbles beneath his mouth, and when he pulls away he's slightly red-faced.

"I should have made you do it," Spencer says, reaching for his beer and missing slightly. "Lots of opportunities for like. Sexy naked housework and shit." He's sprawled out on the couch in an extremely comfortable but not particularly well-located spot. He's about three inches away from premium beer-grabbing locations, and so every time he puts it down he has to inch his way off the couch to pick it back up again.

"I'm not buying a maid costume," Brendon says, nudging the bong back over towards Spencer with his foot. Spencer waves it away, because he's comfortably stoned and if he smokes more he really _will_ end up incapable of moving.

"I didn't say that," Spencer says. He pauses for a moment, beer resting on his chest. "Although maybe I should have. Do you think you could get one with ruffles?"

"No," Brendon says.

"I'll buy you dinner," Spencer says, raising an eyebrow at Brendon, all the way down on the other end of the couch. He fumbles around until he can poke Brendon's foot, which is tucked into his armpit.

"No," Brendon says. "I'm not wearing a sexy maid outfit for you, dude."

"I'll buy you weed," Spencer says. " _And_ dinner."

Brendon takes a long sip of his beer. He squints down the couch at Spencer. "Sexy nurse outfit," Brendon says, finally. "Not sexy maid outfit. Maybe."

"Oh, I see how it is," Spencer says, laughing, twisting so he can tickle Brendon's foot and still keep his beer upright. "You don't want to do housework, but you want to play doctor?"

"Shut up," Brendon says, grinning back, kicking Spencer and trying to wriggle away. "Whatever, Mr. I-love-hitting-people-with-things."

"I _love_ hitting people with things," Spencer agrees, very seriously, thinking about his favorite paddle tucked away upstairs, safe in their box underneath the bed. "I love hitting _you_ with things."

"That makes two of us," Brendon says. He kicks Spencer one final time, and then he wiggles his foot back into place between Spencer's shoulder and the side of the couch. "Man," Brendon says sadly. "I can't believe I only came four times today. I thought I would at least get to like, six or something."

"We could try for five," Spencer says, eyeing Brendon thoughtfully.

"The only way I'm going to get to five is if I get to lie here and you stick your face on my dick," Brendon says lazily, making grabby hands at the bong. "And even then, I'm not sure it's going to happen."

"This is starting to sound like a challenge," Spencer says.

Brendon shrugs, poking at the ash inside the chillum of the bong. "We need to pack this again," he says. "We smoked all of it already."

"Don't smoke anymore," Spencer says, nudging Brendon's arm with his toes. "Now I want to see if I can get you off again."

"Maybe I'll roll one up so I can smoke it while you're blowing me," Brendon says. "That would be awesome."

"I'm not going to blow you," Spencer says, trying to summon enough energy to sit up. It's not as hard as he expects it to be, which means he's less high than he thought. Which is good, because he's just had a brilliant idea.

"Then what?" Brendon says. "I know you love my ass, but do you know how fucking sore I am right now, dude?" He shakes his head, half-smiling at Spencer's determined expression. "No more ass stuff."

"You're sore?" Spencer says, frowning. "You said—shit, Brendon, you said it wasn't that bad."

"Not that sore," Brendon says. "But it will be, if we go upstairs and I get off on your fingers again."

"It's not ass stuff," Spencer says again.

"So let's do it on the couch," Brendon says. "You jerk me off and I'll lie here and then you can come on my face or something. It'll be hot."

"No, I mean, I just remembered. When I was trying to plan stuff out yesterday, I found this vibrator that we bought and never opened," Spencer says. "So it's not ass stuff. We should go play with it. It'll feel awesome when you're high."

Brendon blinks at him. "...how is that not ass stuff?" Brendon says. "What are you going to do, stick it in my ear?"

"No?" Spencer says, blinking back at Brendon. "Wait, seriously, have you never played with a vibrator before?"

"I've...yeah," Brendon says, looking mystified. "But usually it went _in my ass._ Or not usually. One time. One time, and it was definitely in my ass."

"Right," Spencer says. "But—oh, fuck it, I'll just show you," Spencer says, standing up from the couch. His head rush is both present and manageable, and Spencer thinks that he'll be fine to run this show after a glass of water or two.

"I'm so confused," Brendon says, standing up and then shaking his head to clear it. "But okay."

"Trust me," Spencer says, keeping his face blank as he follows Brendon up the stairs. "This is totally going to work. I've seen it on the internet."

"That's not reassuring," Brendon says.

"There were instructional videos," Spencer says. Brendon pauses in the doorway of their bedroom, giving Spencer a look that's transitioned from hesitancy to outright concern.

Spencer holds his innocent expression firm and blank for as long as he can, and then he gives up, snickering as he pushes past Brendon and into the room. "You know I'm fucking with you, right?" he says, sitting down on the bed and fumbling around until he can pull out the box. "Haley had one of these. They're awesome. I know what I'm doing. You're going to come your face off, I swear."

"Such a dick," Brendon mutters ruefully, stripping off his t-shirt. "Promise me this isn't going to require a lot of effort on my part."

"It isn't," Spencer says. "All you have to do is lie there." He pulls the box out from under the bed, rummaging around until he finds the plastic packaging containing the vibrator. It's a cheap one, mostly plastic, something that came for free with one of their orders. The package itself is wrapped up in a plastic grocery bag, which is probably how both of them managed to forgot that it was there.

"See if you can open this," Spencer says, tossing the package onto Brendon's stomach, where he's already arranged himself lazily against the pillows. "I'm going to grab some water. You want some?"

"Yeah, please," Brendon says. He picks up the package. "Also, what the hell, how am I supposed to open this? With my teeth?"

"Here," Spencer says, stopping on his way out the door to grab a pocket-knife off their dresser and toss it on the bed next to Brendon. He heads downstairs for some water, drinking one glass straight from the faucet and then filling up a second from the Brita. He holds Brendon's glass in one hand while he rummages in their junk drawer, eventually pulling out a pair of scissors. Those plastic molded packages are always such a pain in the ass to open.

"Did you get it?" Spencer says, once he's back upstairs with Brendon and setting Brendon's glass down on the bedside table.

"No," Brendon mumbles, around the packaging. He's got a corner of it between his teeth as he tries to hold it in place long enough to saw through the plastic with the pocket knife. "I hate these fucking things."

"Dude, you're going to hurt yourself," Spencer says, pulling the package away from Brendon's unresisting hands. "Here, I brought scissors."

"That would have been really helpful five minutes ago," Brendon says.

"Probably," Spencer says. He cuts through the packaging, pulling the vibrator out and peering inside the battery cavity, and then rummaging around in the box until he finds a stash of batteries in weird sizes.

"I still don't think this is going to work," Brendon says, but his voice sounds suddenly softer, thick around the edges. Spencer looks up to see that Brendon has apparently given up on taking his clothes off, and has shoved his hand down his shorts. He watches Brendon's forearm flex for a moment as Brendon palms himself lazily, and then he goes back to figuring out the vibrator. It turns on with a soft hum when he gets the batteries in, and Spencer plays with the settings for a moment before turning it off.

"You need to be naked for this," Spencer says, crawling up the bed, leaving the vibrator where it is for a moment. "Sorry."

"You do it," Brendon mumbles, shifting his hips into his hand. His eyes are closed, and he has a lazy smile on his face. "I'm busy."

"I can see that," Spencer agrees. He tugs on Brendon's shorts, pulling them off Brendon's hips and down his legs. Brendon wiggles into the motion in a way that's mostly unhelpful. Spencer grins, settling himself in between Brendon's legs and then reaching behind him for the vibrator. Brendon blinks his eyes open, focusing on Spencer. He looks sleep-mussed, stoned as hell. Spencer bites his lip.

"Just keep doing what you're doing," Spencer says running his thumb down the crease of Brendon's inner thigh. "Tell me if you want to stop."

"Uh-huh," Brendon says, letting his eyes fall shut again. He's rubbing himself almost absent-mindedly, brushing his fingers back and forth across the flushed head of his cock.

Spencer rubs his palm over Brendon's stomach, feeling the muscles twitch and jump as Brendon switches to circling his dick with just his thumb and forefinger. "Spread your legs a little more," he breathes, letting his hand drift lower so he can cup Brendon's balls.

Brendon makes a soft, surprised noise. His mouth falls open, and he shifts closer to Spencer. Spencer pulls gently on Brendon's knees until they're arranged around Spencer's waist, his heels tapping against the small of Spencer's back. He rubs his fingers lower, pressing down on Brendon's perineum but keeping his fingers away from Brendon's ass, as promised.

"Shit," Brendon murmurs, pressing back against the pressure of Spencer's fingers. He's all...open like this, and relaxed, legs splayed and entirely shameless. Spencer can't seem to stop touching him, even as he twists his body to grab hold of the abandoned vibrator.

"Keep doing that," Brendon says, closing his fist around his cock and swiping his thumb over the tip. "S'awesome."

"That's the plan," Spencer says. He cups Brendon's balls up against his body one more time, and then he takes hold of the vibrator, switching it on to the lowest setting. He thinks about it for a moment, and then places the tip of it against Brendon's inner thigh, low, close to his knee.

"Oooh," Brendon mumbles. His muscles jump under the skin as Spencer starts slowly dragging it up the inside of Brendon's thigh. "Buzzy."

"Very buzzy," Spencer agrees. He rubs his other palm over the outside of Brendon's hips. Brendon gasps when the vibrator slides up to the crease of his inner thigh. Spencer waits a beat—two beats—and then just as Brendon's relaxing he pushes it up underneath Brendon's balls.

"Fuck," Brendon swears, his mouth dropping open, his heels digging into Spencer's back. His muscles are suddenly tense, his hand speeding up on his cock with tight, quick pulls.

"Good?" Spencer says, even though everything about Brendon's body language is assuring him that it is.

Brendon nods hurriedly, his breath coming in little gasps. "So weird," he says breathlessly. "So good, but so weird. Does it go—higher?"

"There's four settings," Spencer says, and switches it up to the next one. It's a lot more intense, judging by the way Brendon twitches and lets out a surprised moan. His cock is flushed and leaking, peeking through his fist on every stroke. Spencer's mouth waters. "That's number two," Spencer says, increasing the pressure, pushing the toy more firmly against Brendon's body. Brendon's already starting to bear down on him hard enough to make Spencer's wrist hurt, pressing back against the toy for more sensation.

"Higher," Brendon demands. His voice is low and rough. Spencer pushes the setting up again, watching in fascination as Brendon's whole body shudders.

"Too much?" Spencer says, watching Brendon's hand fly on his cock. He doesn't think it is, but Brendon seems to have been reduced to non-verbal pants and moans, his stomach muscles jumping with every stroke.

"No," Brendon gasps out, raising his head to give Spencer a desperate, pleading look. "Fucking—more, do it higher—something, I can't—"

"Are you close?" Spencer says, hunching himself over so he can lean down and finally, _finally_ taste the pre-come that's pearling on the tip of Brendon's cock. It feels like he's been waiting forever, even though Spencer knows rationally that it's barely been six hours. He closes his mouth around the head and sucks, tongue licking over the slit, unable to keep himself from tasting. Brendon moans, thrusting his dick helplessly between Spencer's lips.

"So close," Brendon moans, "So close, shit, your fucking mouth—"

Spencer pulls back, licking his lips. "Come on," he whispers, entranced, as always, by the way Brendon looks when he's almost there. He thumbs at the base of the vibrator, turning it up all the way, and Brendon jerks up with a yell, his whole body tightening up, pressing desperately against Spencer's fingers.

"I'm—" Brendon whines, and then he's sagging back down, his heels digging into Spencer's back as he comes, rocking his hips into the pulses. His come is clearer than normal, almost translucent. Spencer feels a strange, white-hot sensation shoot up his spine, some weird combination of possession and pride. _I did that,_ he thinks, kissing Brendon's hip, his messy fingers, his stomach. _I did that. I wore him out like that, fuck._

"Shit," Brendon says weakly, brushing his fingers over Spencer's mouth. Spencer nips at Brendon's fingers until he convinces him to hold still so Spencer can lick them clean. "You were right. That was crazy."

"Told you," Spencer mumbles.

"Are you gonna get off?" Brendon says, still breathless, slowly drawing his fingers out of Spencer's mouth. "Or are you going to wait again?"

"I don't know," Spencer breathes, only letting go of Brendon's fingers when he's sure they're clean.

"Come on my face," Brendon murmurs, catching hold of Spencer's hand. "Come on, I want you to."

"Fuck," Spencer says, already reaching down to grab hold of himself. He's achingly hard, has been since he got Brendon on his lap. He kneels up, sitting back on his heels.

"Or my ass," Brendon says, his eyes dark, pupils still blown wide. "Or on my dick. Anywhere, shit. I just want you to come on me."

"Keep talking," Spencer manages, fisting himself quick and rough. Brendon lets go of Spencer's hand, stretching his arms up above his head, his movements thick and lazy. Spencer can't stop thinking _I did that, I did that,_ like some crazy broken record.

"Fuck," Brendon says, biting his lip. He runs his hands up Spencer's thighs, over his hips. "All over me, Spence, come on. Get me all wet."

"Fucking _hell_ ," Spencer gasps out, because he shouldn't be _this_ close this fast. He should be having to work for it, should be tired out and spent, but he's almost there, just from the sound of Brendon's voice, the way Brendon's laying himself out for Spencer.

"On my mouth," Brendon whispers. "I want to taste it, come on—"

Spencer whines, his hips bucking forward as he starts to come. The first pulse hits Brendon's neck, and Brendon moans, biting his lip and letting his eyes fall shut, shifting position slightly so that Spencer's coming directly onto his face. Spencer rides it out, feeling his legs shake as he finishes. He falls gracelessly on to Brendon, letting his elbows break his fall.

"Kiss me," Brendon murmurs, his eyes still closed. Spencer licks his way into Brendon's mouth, sloppy and rough, too far gone to do anything else. His fingers slide against Brendon's skin when he brings them up to cup Brendon's jaw.

"Yeah?" Spencer says, eventually, reluctantly pulling back from Brendon's mouth to catch his breath. Brendon winks at him, sliding his thumb across his wet jawline and then tucking it in his mouth, his lips hollowed around it as he sucks.

"Yeah," Brendon says, grinning. "Oh yeah."

"You're ridiculous," Spencer says, accepting one of Brendon's fingers when he trails it across Spencer's lips. He sucks it clean, then releases it with a pop. "Also, we're filthy."

"Yup," Brendon says, entirely unrepentant. He smiles, slow and lazy. "So. If we get up real early, you think we can try for six tomorrow?"


End file.
